


What the Water Gave

by scurvaliciousbay



Series: Mirevas River AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Awakening an old god, F/M, Feynite Fan Work, Mirevas - Freeform, Reincarnation, Varterrel, time lapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scurvaliciousbay/pseuds/scurvaliciousbay
Summary: Thousands of years have passed since Elvhenan's fall and the imprisonment of its gods. Darevas is one of those gods, trapped and sleeping, still reeling form the death of his beloved. Unbeknownst to him, a young Dalish girl falls into a river, and the world begins to change.





	What the Water Gave

**Author's Note:**

> Darevas and Selene belong to SeleneLavellan
> 
> This interpretation of Dirthamen and Deceit belong to Feynite

When she is twelve, Miriel’s little sister, Maren, is born. She is a tiny squealing baby that somehow fills the entire aravel with her loud cries and cute presence. And with Mamae still recovering from the nearly fatal delivery, Papae has taken up taking care of the baby with the help of a few of the other clanspeople. There are a lot of people over all the time now. Even Rana, now fifteen, is always somehow helping with the baby.

But babies to twelve-year-old Miri are boring and loud and not really all that pleasant. The smells alone are enough to put her out of the aravel, making her visit her friends more often than not. Which is how Varas convinced her that running the Ruil’shiral to the Drop Off is a good idea.

The Ruil’shiral is a long winding trail that goes from the traditional place where Bellenan camps in the winter all the way to a great river that divides the wild lands from the farms the humans have built. But there is an offshoot from the path, affectionately nicknamed “Din’ruilan” by a few of the older hunters. The younger ones swear up and down that it isn’t that bad. One of those hunters is Varas’s older brother.

“He’s shown me the way before! We’ll be fine!” Varas swears as he leads Miriel and Lynnan through the bush. Miriel pulls her sweater closer to her body as they dash through, giggling madly.

“Just up this way!” Varas calls, taking Miriel and Lynnan’s hands. They hop and climb up a small hill to find themselves standing above the Drop Off, a gigantic ravine with a slow moving river at the bottom.

“Wow,” she whispers, climbing atop dead logs to get a better look at the river. It is really far down, isn’t it? But it’s beautiful, clear, and she can hear the rushing of it even up here. On the far side of the ravine old ruins of buildings are buried into the wall of dirt, now only peaking through. The Keeper says they’re ruins of an ancient elven city, lost to time and the weight of the earth.

“We should go to the edge, see how cold the water actually is,” Miriel suggests and Lynnan shakes her head.

“Nooo, I can already tell you it’s too cold.”

“You don’t know! Maybe it’s warm, Papae says there’s a hot spring up that way and the water flows through it,” she says.

“We know you miss the Halaman, but we’ll be there in a few months,” Varas says and Miriel harumphs. The Halaman is her favorite place in the whole world. Located south of the Rialto bay, it is half cliffs, half caves that lead out to the swaying ocean. She always spent most of her time in those caves, jumping into the water, laughing and playing while the others worried about her.

She misses the water each year when they leave. They’re only there ever so briefly.

But the river is nice, even if it’s so far away. Varas scrambles to the edge of the drop off, dangling dangerously close to falling off. Miriel lurches forward and grabs hold of his tunic, holding him in place.

“Do you have a death wish?!” She scolds.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he says, winking. She rolls her eyes.

“I should let you go, fall to your death.”

“You’d miss me!” She sighs because he’s right. Still, he has stupid ideas and a stupid face.

“Then get away from the ledge,” she nags. He rolls his eyes but scuttles back up to safer ground.

“Quiet,” Lynnan suddenly says and they freeze. The slightly older girl stands on her tiptoes, trying to see through the woods. Her eyes widen and she turns.

“We need to go -

Dog howls break through the wood and Miriel freezes. Lynnan and Varas are running but she can’t, why can’t she run? She drops into the brush, trying her best to hide. Dog howls mean humans and humans are bad.

Don’t see me. Don’t smell me. Don’t see me.

Leaves and grass crackle as the dogs barrel towards her, they nose and paw at her and she wriggles away.

“Whatcha find, boys?”

“Look! It’s one of those wild elves!”

Her heart races and the dogs are right there and the humans are going to get her. Steal her, hurt her. Flashes of Enaste The Younger’s body invade her mind and she shrinks inward.

Don’t let them get me.

A hand reaches down and grabs her, wrenching her out of the leaves.

“No!” She screams, throwing her body back to break free of his hold. It works! She wrenches free of him only to stumble backwards….

Over the drop off.

She screams as she falls, scrambling to grasp onto roots and things to hold her up. It only slows the fall until she is completely free-falling then crashing into the water.

It is cold. So cold. It sinks into her skin, wraps around her. The air is forced out of her lungs as she feels her body fall further into the freezing water.

She kicks out and tries to propel her body up but she is small and it is cold -

A great rumble echoes in the water around her and for the briefest moment she thinks she sees the brightest blue eyes she’s ever seen. They blink as if confused and then the water moves, propelling her upwards out of the depths, warming as it shoves her to the surface.

Her face breaks through and she sucks in great gulps of air. Her lungs burn as they expand with air. She gasps, sputters, as the water pushes her towards the shore. She rests there, cold and wet and in disbelief.

The water…saved her?

Creators what was that?

Her body shakes and she curls in on herself, shivering, teeth clattering.

There is shouting in the distance and she wonders if the humans pursued her, saw her break through the water. They’ll think she’s a mage, they’ll…

Shouted clan-speak drifts through the woods, familiar and comforting words of panic and worry wash over her.

“MIRIEL! DA’LEN!” That is Papae’s voice! She just needs to…sit up or something. Get their attention.

Miriel lifts her head and calls out in a small voice, “Papae.”

It’s soft and she is certain that they can’t hear her but then the movement gets louder and she crumples more solidly against the ground.

“Miriel? Oh, Miri, da’len!” Papae says distressed. She…should say she’s fine, tell him that the water saved her, but she can’t seem to speak past her clattering teeth. Strong, warm arms come around her and lift her from the ground.

“I’ve got you, da’len, I’ve got you.”

**

“I’m telling the truth!” She tells the keeper. He frowns and shakes his head.

“Demons -

“It was not a demon.”

He pauses, collecting himself, “Spirits are known to inhabit places such as forests or rivers. They can meddle in the affairs of mortals. It is best not to investigate further, lest you seek its wrath.”

She purses her lips. How to explain?

“It saved me twelve years ago when I fell, remember that? I saw…blue eyes and then it propelled me up. Five years ago when I swam out into the ocean and got caught in the riptide, I felt it again.” She doesn’t know how else to articulate the strange feeling she gets in the pit of her stomach every time she steps into a body of water, or she is filled with the worst longing whenever she stands on a cliff overlooking the Halaman.

Keeper Ethenor frowns then sighs as he rises from his chair, “Feelings by themselves are not enough to justify sending out a party to explore the ruins.”

“She should have died, Keeper,” Lynnan says from her seat. Miriel blinks in surprise, normally Firsts don’t get too involved in individual petitions, even if the individual doing the petitioning is a friend.

“I gather that, and do not mistake my reluctance as being ungrateful that she remains with us.”

“Do you not wish to know potentially why? The Veil has grown thin in the last ten years, Keeper, perhaps she is feeling the effects of it.”

“And if that is the case then it makes even less sense for her to tempt such spirits. They have been benevolent thus far, but there is nothing guaranteeing they will continue their generosity. Spirits are fickle creatures, I will not lose one of our most promising hunters to them. Your request is denied, Miriel. Lynnan, remain here, I wish to have a word with you.” The Keeper dismisses her easily and she supposes she should not have expected much else. She bows in respect and ducks out of the aravel, past hanging fabrics and spun wards, the spellwork heavy in the threadwork. To keep the demons away, Keeper Ethenor said.

She heads into the center of camp, trying to distract herself. They’re back where they had camped when she had fallen into the river by the Ruil’shiral. Her head is heavy with whispers and a need to run back to it. She is restless and worried and she can’t pinpoint why. It’s beyond frustrating, particularly since the Keeper seems bent on keeping her from what she suspects are answers.

It was there, she knows it - a cave, upstream from where she had fallen, framed by two weathered white-washed stone pillars. She dreams of it sometimes, falling into the freezing water only to feel it warm, bright blue eyes watching her. From these dreams she wakes not with trepidation but with a fluttering in her heart that she can’t calm for the rest of the day. And they have only become more frequent as she has gotten older.

“You look distracted,” a familiar voice says. She blinks and realizes she has unintentionally wandered to her friend’s stall. Vathoren, apprentice to the master craftsman, smiles playfully at her, gesturing to the various things he has on display.

“Tel’abelas, I’m…” she waves her hand in the air, struggling for words.

“Distracted. The question is what? Or, rather, by whom?” He wiggles his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes in turn.

“Very funny,” she chides before pointing to a new dagger and gesturing for him to show it to her. He leans back and grabs it, bringing it forward for her to inspect. She takes the hilt, feeling the weight. The metal glints in the sunlight, sharp and ready to cut. The hilt is smooth carved wood, embellished with small symbols dedicating it to Mythal.

She could trade for it, but it looks more decorative than useful in what she does. She sets the dagger down and sighs.

“The Keeper denied my request to explore the ruins,” she says in soft voice.

“Ah, that would explain the distraction.”

She nods, biting her lip, “I wish I could explain it better, I keep thinking that if he just knew then it wouldn’t be even in question.”

Vathoren raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, “I don’t think he would let you go, even then. Do you know how valuable you are to the clan? The Keeper is wise to not send one of the most promising hunters out on an expedition to chase a spirit.” He grabs a rag and wipes his hands, then picks the dagger back up and puts it away.

And that’s just the thing, she seems to be the only one who doesn’t think this is a spirit. It feels…more than that. She’s seen spirits and their magic, Lynnan is…she…when they were fifteen the clan was attacked and Lynnan had summoned a cadre of demons to slay the humans before Ethenor was forced to banish all of the spirits clawing to possess her. The magic that saved Miriel is not dark, it is not twisted or foul or anything like that. But there’s no way to convince the rest of the clan of this apparently.

“I suppose you’re right,” Miriel concedes instead. Varas and Lynnan are the only two who truly believe her about any of this, and as much as she loves Vath, he isn’t going to bend about this.

The rest of the day passes like any other. She helps the hunters that return from procuring the evening’s meal with skinning and cooking, handing over the hides to the tanners who set to preserving the hide to make use of it later.

Lynnan takes a seat next to her at supper but says nothing. When the Keeper is distracted by Miriel’s father’s initiation of an old song, Lynnan finally turns to Miriel and places a small piece of paper in her pocket. She winks and Miriel’s brow furrows.

She waits for the evening to die down before sneaking off to behind the aravel she shares with three other hunters. Only once she’s sure she’s alone does she take the note out and read it.

Meet me on the Ruil’shiral when the moon is high.

Miriel grins. Approval be damned, it’s time she found out what exactly what’s been causing…everything.

She goes through the motions of the evening. She secures the perimeter with a few of the other hunters while the rest of the clan moves the aravels into the nightly defensive positions. At the end of the patrol, she crawls into the aravel and into her hammock, waiting for the night to draw on to the right point.

When snores and even breathing fill the space, she gently and as quietly as possible leaves her hammock. She gathers her things, strapping her various daggers and knives to her body while she keeps her ears trained on the snoring and breathing of the other hunters. Her hair goes up into her routine pony-tail, exposing the shaved sides of her head to the cool night air.

Careful now, she thinks as she tiptoes through the aravel and out into the night. With her bow in hand, she makes her way to the Ruil’shiral, knowing the way by almost muscle memory now. The smaller moon hangs full and high in the sky, shedding light in the otherwise dark night. It reminds her of the old story the Hahren likes to tell, of how Dirthamen fell in love with Selene. The smaller moon is hers, her own glowing hair cut to light her raven-husband’s way, while the larger moon of Mythal’s starts its waning cycle.

Miriel hastens her steps through the path until she sees Lynnan’s lithe figure waiting for her by a dead oak tree. She turns to her and nods.

“For a second I thought you would not come.”

“And miss out on this chance? I thought you knew me better,” Miriel replies. Lynnan smiles as she pushes herself off from the tree.

“We’re going to get scolded, you know this, no?”

“I do, but the alternative of not knowing…”

“Is worse, I know.”

“Now, wait just a minute,” a familiar voice says. Shit. Miriel and Lynnan are both quick to turn to the voice, dagger and staff in hand. But it’s just Varas, the shit.

“You were asleep!”

“Like you’re supposed to be?” He counters, crossing his arms. Miriel narrows her eyes. While a friend, Varas is Ethenor’s son.

Miriel’s lips thin as she sheathes her dagger, “You were there, Varas. You know I should have died, you probably felt the magic too. How can I just…not need to know?”

He snorts, “You say this like I don’t know. I’m just insulted that I wasn’t in on this little…whatever this is. Dear ol’ Pa is a stick in the mud, time to break some rules.” He chuckles and strides past Lynnan.

“Besides, you’re not used to not being able to use your eyes.”

Lynnan rolls her own eyes at him at that and lights the stone at the top of her staff, “It’s called magical lighting. But yes, we could use a third.”

A third does make it feel more secure and while Miriel is confident in her skills, Varas is wildly capable and deadly with his short swords. Three’s the charm.

They set forward toward the Drop Off, searching for a path that will lead them safely down to the river. Just south of where Miriel had fallen twelve years ago is a creek that has worn into the ground, creating a haphazard way down to the river. They follow it down then start traveling upstream towards the cave Miriel had seen.

Miriel’s eyes are routinely drawn to the water and a desire to touch it, to sit by it and listen to it. Lynnan’s staff bumps against her shoulder and she jerks her gaze away from the dark water.

“Keeper your head here, Miri,” she says, sounding so very much like a First, or even a Keeper. Miriel nods and blinks, right, ignore the potentially enthralling water, continue on, find the cause.

They travel just a bit farther before Miriel spots it, a dark split at the base of a once whitewashed tower, now dirty and being torn apart by vines. It’s across the river, embedded in what looks like a collapse of an old ruin, filling Miriel with the usual sorrow and longing. It was elven, it was theirs, but only ruins now - a broken memory. There’s nothing to be done about it now. The task at hand now is getting across the river without becoming sopping wet and uncomfortable.

“Miriel, I will send you first, then catch our blind mouse.”

“I will aim myself at our dear friend’s blob, do not worry!” Varas jokes to Lynnan’s scowl. Miriel steps in front of Lynnan and the air fills with a static charge before she is lifted into the air.

“Whoa -aaaaaaaaah!” She screams as the static electrifies and she is thrust over the water, hurtling through the air to land suddenly on the bank. She tumbles down into the sand, gasping and cursing at the suddenness. Her heart thunders in her ears as she quickly stands back up, alert and not at all embarrassed. She swallows and gathers herself, brushing off the sand and straightening her back.

“All right, send him over,” she calls.

Varas is no more graceful than she is to be thrown over the river. He shouts and flails until he is very suddenly crashing into Miriel’s body. His body slams into her, knocking her to the ground with a painful “OOF!”

They are a tangle of limbs and cursing as they extract each other from the other. Miriel stands back up to see Lynnan gracefully stepping on magically drawn up water to support her. She lands with ease on the bank, grinning.

“You did that on purpose.”

Lynnan shrugs, “You hid a dead fish in my aravel for two days. Two days.”

“Well, I have done nothing to deserve this!” Varas whines, rolling to his feet. Both Miriel and Lynnan frown at him.

“Do you really want to get into it?” Miriel says, crossing her arms. Really? Varas is the chronic prankster, from stealing underwear to switching the cold and hot water enchanted baskets. He once spread fat all over the floor of the aravel making Miriel, Nesuth, and Borathim (who deserved it but STILL) fall and crawl to get out of the aravel.

Varas shrugs and starts walking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Miriel rolls her eyes but sets forth. There is a time and place to get into it with Varas and walking up a river bank in the middle of the night while defying his father is really not it. Lynnan understands this as well and they all turn serious as they make it to the cave.

Perhaps ‘cave’ is not the most accurate term for what it is. It is space between the fallen tower, leaning heavily on an angle against the riverbank and the wall of dirt. They have to duck below the enormous tower, their hands lingering on the smooth stone in brief wonderment at their lost history.

Varas goes first, feeling ahead with an assuredness that neither Lynnan nor Miriel would feel. Lynnan follows him, the stone on her staff glowing brightly. Miriel holds up the back, feeling the magic of the place start to…call to her. Strange melancholy and a yearning she can’t quite place fill her. She both wants to stop and to keep going, needing more than ever to know.

“Do you feel it?” She whispers, hoping that she isn’t alone in this.

“It’s creepy, that’s for sure,” Varas quips.

That’d be a no then. Not like she was expecting them to feel it, she is the one being singled out here. The sorrow is heavy and it piles on her own sorrow for the loss of history and the all the tragedies that have befallen the elves. But she continues after Lynnan and Varas, doing all she can to push the distracting misery aside.

The small tunnel opens up quickly into what appears to be a natural grotto. It is wide, the edges worn oddly smooth. There are two sides of the grotto, split by a small stream that must feed into the larger river. Light from Lynnan’s stone catches on the geodes of the grotto, twinkling brightly in the dark.

“The Veil is perilously thin here, be on your guard,” Lynnan says as she steps out in front of Varas. She instructs him to follow her and the light so he doesn’t fall into the water by mistake. Miriel steps out from the tunnel to follow her friends when her head begins to swim.

She blinks and shakes her head but her vision shifts to see not her friends but the grotto, only the water is higher, louder and there is a hooded figure at the end of the grotto. It turns to her, revealing an unmoving mask.

“Stop!” She gasps and her vision returns instantly to the grotto and her friends. Miriel’s body shakes as she tries to reorient herself.

What was that?

“Miriel!”

“I…I saw a masked…person, at the end - are they there?”

“No one’s there, Miriel.”

Pain lances through her skull, making Miriel wince.

“At least we know we’re in the right place,” Varas says, attempting to be glib but sounding far more serious than she’s known him to be. Lynnan places a gentle hand to Miriel’s forehead and murmurs a few words. After a few seconds, the pain flits away and Miriel’s vision clears completely. Her friends’ shadowed faces come into focus and she smiles, trying to reassure them.

They don’t seem convinced.

Lynnan helps her up, frowning, “We can turn back, it is very possible this is a malicious demon.”

“I’m not even a mage, why would it target me?” Miriel asks. It would make more sense if it targeted Maren or Lynnan or any of the other mages in the clan.

“We were once all mages, the Keeper said that sometimes the magic is simply latent in some elves. Not strong enough to surface on its own, but definitely there. Perhaps the demon senses it,” Lynnan explains, “and you do have magic in your lineage. Your grandmother was Keeper of He’althin.”

Latent magic…it’s not something she’s considered before. But if the magic is not strong enough to surface on its own, how would that set a target on her back? More powerful mages have swam in the river and in the ocean at the Halaman.

“It is difficult to understand the motivations of spirits at times, even selfish demons can have intricate…patterns. They do not think like we do,” Lynnan continues to explain as they begin to set forth back down the grotto. Miriel runs her hand against the wall of the grotto, finding it to be a grounding presence that helps keep her away from the weird lure of the water.

“Do they even think? I overheard father saying that spirits are just embodiments of aspects of the physical.”

Lynnan sighs, “It is debated. Some Keepers believe them to be no more active than a tree, but even a tree will bend itself to reach for the light to grow. Other Keepers believe that spirits are simply bodiless people, but then why would they go on to possess corpses and trees?”

“What do you think?” Miriel asks.

“They are embodiments, but I believe that doesn’t reduce their agency. There is a great deal about the Fade that we still do not understand, and it is impossible to fully understand the spirits that dwell there with our limited knowledge. But know that spirits can be canny, they can trick and connive and back you into a corner. They can make you feel things - it is best to be on guard, no matter what.”

Miriel falls quiet. They can make her feel things, trick her…this spirit could be tricking her. It could have been an elaborate trap, or perhaps she isn’t even the target here. It doesn’t take much observation to know she is friends with Lynnan. Maybe it’s not even about Miriel, she’s just a pawn in this game. It’s not a comforting thought, but it makes more sense with what she knows about magic than thinking she really is the target of all of…whatever this is.

“Maybe it’s after you, through me?” Miriel suggests to Lynnan. She tilts her head, thinking.

“I doubt it, honestly. You were alone when the magic first surfaced.”

“But it could have been watching us.”

Lynnan pauses and shakes her head, “It doesn’t fit any pattern that I have seen. But say that you are right, we should turn back. A spirit, a demon, that plans to get a mage by manipulating the mage’s friend is…far more cunning a demon than we should tempt.”

“Because it’s comforting to think of spirits spying on us,” Varas scoffs.

“It would be if you couldn’t explain why magic has been mysteriously intervening in your life for over a decade,” Miriel says.

“You’re blessed, Miriel, that’s what’s going on, nothing more nothing less. You have Their favor.”

“If you believe that, why are you here?” She asks.

Varas shrugs, “Because I could be wrong. And anyways, what’s more fun than going against the Keeper’s orders and exploring a dark, dank cave in the middle of the night?”

“Ooh oh, going against the Keeper’s orders and getting drunk on stolen human wine!” Miriel says. Varas snorts on a laugh, but is quickly hushed by a suddenly spooked Lynnan.

“Be quiet!”

They immediately recede towards the wall of the grotto and fall silent while Lynnan crouches and dims the light on her staff. Miriel opens her mouth to ask what has Lynnan so worried when she hears it - faintly, but distinct footsteps in the distance, the low cadence of human voices. Varas hisses and Miriel resists the urge to swear. They could turn back, avoid this whole debacle.

But when she blinks again she sees the masked person again, closer to her face, drawing her closer only to disappear when she blinks again. She swallows, stilling her shaking hands. If there are humans here…this isn’t just her decision now, though.

“If you wish to leave, I will not stop you,” Miriel whispers.

“Are you mad?” Lynnan says.

“Or just stupid?” Varas asks and she sighs.

“Practical - humans complicate things,” she whispers back.

“We came here for answers, we’re not leaving without them,” Lynnan answers and Varas nods in agreement. As foolish as they are for remaining, Miriel can’t help but smile in warm gratitude.

They slink along the wall of the grotto, going slowly as they feel the path turn decidedly downward. Miriel was wrong, this is not a stream feeding into the river, but the river feeding into the stream. Which begs the question - where is the water going?

As they advance through the cave, the humans become more noticeable. Miriel eventually spies the telltale warm glow of torches and the glinting of metal. Perhaps they are adventurers? This cave system is after all connected to elven ruins which tend to attract all sorts. Their voices echo through the space, clear Antivan, but they sound more local than adventurers.

Miriel tells Lynnan and Varas to wait while she quietly scouts ahead. She remains silent as she finally lays eyes on the humans. Her stomach falls, they are farmers and local guardsmen from the looks of it. Farmers and guardsmen are typically the most dangerous humans to the Dalish, mostly because they can rally in greater numbers than even Templars. Adventurers are fairly solitary, but townspeople….

“Where’s the blasted beast? It’s getting on in the night, no?” One of the farmers says.

“I don’t know where it is, all we know is that it’s in here somewhere,” another farmer says.

A beast? The clan has been camped where they are for well over a week now and they have had scouted no such beast capable of rousing the townspeople like this. She creeps back to Lynnan and Varas, telling them of what she’s learned.

“A beast? What sort of beast could live in here?” Lynnan ponders.

“Giant spiders, probably.”

“But those are fairly standard, no?” Miriel says.

“True…there is another thing…” Lynnan murmurs, “old and elven - a varterrel. They normally don’t venture out from their caves but….”

“Well, shit. How do you kill it?” Varas asks.

“Like you kill anything, I suppose, hit it enough and it dies.”

“Comforting,” Miriel drawls, “what does it look like?”

“Stories are inconsistent. Best guess is spider like.” Well, it’s better than nothing. First the vision, then the humans, and the varterrel - everything is screaming for them to leave. Conflicted, Miriel turns to look ahead only to lock her gaze on the flowing water. Peculiar sorrow and determination fill her and she knows that she is locked onto this goal.

Stubborn, Mamae would say, and foolish.

Lynnan shrouds them with a silencing spell, allowing them to follow more directly behind the humans. They speak of the beast and how it’s lurked on the edges of farms, menacing sheep and killing at least two dogs who have come to chase it off. The cave continues downward, eventually to a set of old weathered stairs.

This cave is not simply attached to the ruins, then, it’s part of them.

Lynnan tenses beside Miriel. As First, Lynnan is understandably protective of elven ruins. They don’t belong to humans or adventurers, but to the elves. These townspeople are trespassers, but they have to keep in mind that they are outnumbered.

After a long moment, they follow the humans down the stairs. Or Miriel means to follow. When her foot touches the step her vision wavers once more and she sees the masked person running up the stairs, at her.

“Miriel!” They cry before the vision clears and she returns to the dark reality. Thrown off, she gasps and leans against the wall, clutching at her chest where her racing heart is.

“Miriel? It happened again, didn’t it?” Lynnan whispers and Miriel quickly nods.

“Sorta glad I can’t see, means I don’t see fucked up shit,” Varas says. She wants to agree with him but this vision was…different. It wasn’t terrifying, strangely enough, but…exciting? She hadn’t felt scared by the figure, and the way they said her name. It was almost like they were happy to see her, genuinely so, like being greeted after returning from a long hunt.

It could be a trick. A demon could be manipulating her. She repeats those thoughts to herself, she should stay guarded. It could be a trap.

Once her breathing returns to normal, they resume the descent. When the stairs end, they hear the humans again and Lynnan’s brow furrows. She lifts a hand into the air then lets out a long breath.

“What is it?” Miriel says, trying to see if there is anything that could be actively threatening them. But the immediate area around them is empty. Not even threatening stalactites loom overhead.

“I…am not sure. The magic here is…weird, and very old but not worn down like in other ruins. It’s old but strong.”

Her face remains concerned, but with nothing more to go on, they continue forward. The cave turns sharply, diverting away from the flowing water and into a system of larger caverns. Glowing crystals remain embedded in the walls and ceiling, lighting the cavern in an almost beautiful light. There’s enough light that Lynnan turns the light on her staff off and they see the group of humans ahead oohing and awing at the crystals.

“We could mine these!” One of the humans suggests.

“I bet it’s magic, with all the elf shit up there, probably demons or something,” another human says.

Miriel, Lynnan, and Varas creep in further into the cavern. A great shudder shakes the cavern and the lights in the rocks flicker. The humans begin to yell while Miriel’s group cling to a dark patch of wall. Miriel’s breathing grows erratic, eyes wide as a long blunted rock-like leg and foot descends from the ceiling.

She looks up…and sees a monster. Its body is the color of the rocks around them save for the glowing connective tissue between its narrow, insect-like body and the five limbs that slowly descend from its roost. Its body is long and more suspended than supported by its disproportionately long legs. Glowing eyes and long, sharp fangs dominate the head. Two armlike appendages with hands dangle from its underbelly.

“That is a varterrel,” Lynnan says in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Miriel! Is it cool looking?” Varas asks.

“It’s a monster!”

“Aw nice!”

“It’s going to kill us! You two are crazy!” She hisses and Lynnan shrugs.

“Legends say that it protects elven ruins, it’s focused on the humans right now.”

The varterrel, as tall as the cavern, screeches and swings out a front leg at the humans, sending them tumbling back. The head bends down, peering closely at the tumbled humans, appearing to…look for something. It bristles and Miriel’s stomach sinks preemptively as the monster swings its body around…to peer at Miriel and her friends.

It does not so much as screech as it does…chirp, not unlike a bird. It takes a step forward but does not make any move to strike at them.

“Andaran’atishan, ma’falon’varterrel,” Lynnan says in flowing old elvhen. The varterrel turns to her and immediately lets out a deep caw before turning its gaze to Miriel.

Its eyes are blue.

“Talk to it!” Lynnan whispers fiercely and Miriel stumbles forward, her eyes never leaving its own. The glowing blue is both familiar and different from what she saw, not quite as elven, and she is sure that this is not what called her here, but it’s related to it somehow.

“A-aneth’ara, varterrel. I am Miriel of clan Bellenan, these are my friends, Lynnan and Varas,” she says, keeping her voice level and her movements slow. It follows her closely, bending down close

The varterrel’s head tilts in curiosity, and makes a noise of interest, a lilting chittering that is almost endearing. Against her better judgement, she smiles and reaches up towards its head. It lowers its maw to her hand, letting her run a cautious hand down its surprisingly smooth…skin? She thinks it qualifies as skin.

“You’re a good varterrel,” she says, surprising herself. It chirps in response before a sickening crunch fills the air and the varterrel rears back, shrieking in pain. The humans! They must have gotten back up and attacked it!

“No! Stop!” She calls but it’s too late, the humans are rallying, now pointing to Miriel and her friends as well as the varterrel. But before she can do anything, the varterrel is picking her up into its strange, firm grasp. She yelps in shock as she is cradled carefully to its body. It kicks out at the humans, screeching at them as it begins to barrel through the caverns.

“MIRIEL!” Lynnan shouts.

“Lynnan! HELP!” She squirms in the creature’s grasp, but it has her so that her arms are tucked in against her body, not allowing her to maneuver herself. But her legs are free, maybe if she can move so that her legs -

“AH!” She screams as pain burns into her leg. The varterrel screeches with her as she looks down to see a sizeable knife lodged in her thigh. Fucking shit that hurts. And it doesn’t help that the damn varterrel jostles her with each step it takes.

The humans are shouting and chasing them, and she hears her friends as well, joining in the fray. The varterrel only hastens, screeching as it is pelted with projectiles. It only stops when it comes to a large pool of water.

Miriel’s breathing is labored and she squirms slightly as the varterrel raises her up to its face.

“Let me go, please?” She asks. For a brief moment, everything stills and she thinks that the bizarre turn of events tonight may just lessen. It is a very, very brief moment.

And then the varterrel drops her into the water.

She plunges into the cool water, plummeting down and unable to properly kick up to reach the surface. The wound in her leg burns and and she can feel from the currents that the water from the stream is pouring into this, and all it does is push her farther down. Her lungs begin to burn and she wonders if this is how she dies - drowned in a vain attempt to discover why she didn’t drown when she was twelve.

Her vision goes dark as she sinks to the bottom of the pool. She blinks and when she opens her eyes, she sees the bright blue eyes again and the feeling she felt all those years ago returns but stronger. So much stronger.

It is like hands taking her and guiding her to turn around, placing her hand against a slick surface of…is this a mirror? Magic presses against her and she presses against the mirror. Something…clicks inside of her and the mirror lights in brilliant fashion. Before she can properly react to the sudden influx of magic, she falls through the mirror. Pain sears into her so hotly she cries out. It is like being pulled apart only to be shoved back together again, happening so quickly and painfully she does not fully realize she is through the mirror and out of the water until she realizes she’s breathing. Wet, but breathing.

Miriel opens her eyes and takes in the strange room from her prone position on the stone floor. The magic is so strong here that even she, a non-mage, can feel it. It warms the small space, curling decidedly around the pool in the center of the room. It is a warm space despite the stone, replete with luxurious looking drapes and pillows, enchanted stones that made to have a glow resembling that of a candle’s.

Wards are carved into each bit of stone, wards that she should be activating but…she’s strangely not. The wards remain quiet, even as her blood mingles with the water that traveled with her through the eluvian. The bloody water slips down toward the pool until it spills over the edge and into the bright blue water.

The magic ripples and she flinches back, biting back a whimper of pain. Water sloshes in the pool and in a great rush of magic and water, a man suddenly sits up, water sluicing down his face and hair. Miriel’s eyes widen in shock as the man drags in great gulps of air.

Shit, shit, shit! Miriel moves back towards the mirror and the knife moves. A cry of pain leaves her involuntarily and the man’s eyes snap open. They’re blue, the brightest blue…just like the blue from the river….

Her lips part on a silent oh as he spies her.

In the blink of an eye, he is rushing out of the pool and towards her. Oh Creators, no!

She grabs hold of the knife in her belt, then doubles down towards the floor, “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to disturb you or mess up your room or anything!” She says, her body shaking. Tonight has just been so much. She can’t…she can feel the tears eeking out of her eyes. She is beginning to feel light-headed from the blood loss, not that it matters, he’s probably going to kill her anyways.

“Vhenan?” He says and she stills.

…What now? She blink and cautiously looks up to see him staring at her, bright blue eyes full of…worry? Over her? His eyes drift down to the knife in her leg and he speaks words that she does not know, but they are full of a strange affection filled horror. Is he lamenting over her injury?

Miriel scoots again only to bite her lip against the pain again. In a gesture she is familiar with, he shushes over her, admonishing her movement in an overtly affectionate manner. He reaches up towards her face but she is quick to catch his wrist. His bare wrist.

She is suddenly aware of the very naked man in front of her, and while normally nudity is not a big deal, he is saying things like vhenan with a voice full of warmth and affection. And well, it’s just a bit much.

Miriel swallows, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she pointedly looks at his face. A grin spread across his face and he says more words that she is beginning to suspect are elven.

“…a’ashalan, ma’Miriel,” he says at the end. She startles - how…how does he know her name? Who is he? And how does he know her? Is…is he the one responsible for the magic? The magic in the room certainly has the right feeling and he has the eyes. He must be the one, and he is certainly no demon. Demons are not of flesh, they are not warm and they don’t say things like vhenan.

“Who are you?” She whispers, brows knit in confusion. He blinks and purses his lips. The hand in her grip moves towards her again and she pushes back.

“…no…hurt…you,” is all that she understands from his speech. There is a strange sincerity to it, to him, that she takes a breath and lets his wrist go. His touch is warm and dry and very careful as he runs his thumb to the corner of her mouth. Magic prickles at her skin and she tenses, but nothing unpleasant happens. He takes his hand away, and with it the warmth.

He pulls his hand to his face, running his thumb and index finger along his lips like he had run them against her skin. The air zings with magic and he exhales.

“Can you understand me now?” He asks, voice accented but clear. She nods, amazed at the unfamiliar magic.

His face immediately softens into a genuine smile, so heartfelt that she thinks he may cry. It makes her heart ache for some reason.

“You’re hurt, I would like to heal you now,” he says and she nods once more. He directs his attention to the knife in her leg, assessing it before wrapping a hand around the hilt and placing his other hand on her leg. She bites her lip until it bleeds at the pain as he pulls out the knife. The healing is quick, however, and she lets out a shaky breath at the end. He looks back up to her face, his expression full of awe and joy.

“I can’t believe you’re here…” he whispers.

She blinks, takes a deep breath.

“Who are you?”

His face falls immediately, from awe to despair.

“You…don’t remember?”

From his face and the heartbreak in his voice, she wants to remember whatever it is he wants her so desperately to remember. Maybe if she did it would explain all of this better.

Miriel shakes her head, “I’ve never met you before.” Her voice is small but it weighs heavily in the space between them. Disbelief crosses his features, his head shaking.

“No, that’s…no.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Are you responsible for the magic? In the river and the ocean?” She asks leaning after him as he leans away to sit next to her.

It is his turn to blink in confusion, “The river and the ocean?”

She nods, “When I was twelve, I fell into a river. It was freezing cold and I should have died, but then the water warmed and I saw…your eyes I think and I was suddenly pushed up to the surface. And in the ocean, I was going to be pulled out by the riptide, but again, magic helped push back ashore. I…went looking tonight to find out the source of that. I had to find the source.” Which oddly doesn’t feel so pressing now, but she supposes things feel less pressing when a naked magic man is sitting next you calling you vhenan. There are more important answers to be had at the moment.

His brow furrows and he regards her quizzically for a moment, “I…suppose I could have been reaching out to you while I slept. We were bonded once, maybe some part of it remained, enough to save you in the water.” His face grows morose, his eyes closing she suspects to hold back tears.

“I seem to have waken you to sadness, I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t apologize, this…is not your fault,” he shakes his head, expression turning into a bitter sneer, “I am going to kill him.”

Miriel tenses, “Kill who?”

“The Dread Wolf, the bastard.”

…What now?

“Wh-what?!” She says incredulously. He can’t be serious, you can’t just…kill a god, that’s not how it works. He turns towards her, his smile chillingly curious.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t,” she whispers, fear trickling down her spine, making her want to dash out through the mirror again. He bows his head in greeting.

“My name is Darevas, son of Dirthamen and Selene, grandson to Mythal and Elgar’nan, a protector and ruler of Elvhenan.”

…

The blood loss must be worse than she thought, because she thinks he just said he’s Darevas, as in Creator Darevas as in one of her Gods. And that’s just ridiculous, crazy, and completely impossible. The Dread Wolf trapped the Creators in the Beyond, this…this is just a room connected to some weird magic mirror in a grotto that’s also part of elven ruins, it’s not….

“No,” she says, processing everything. He quirks a brow at her.

“No?”

“As in there’s no way you’re a Creator, a God, the…Fen’Harel locked you away! And you’re just…here!”

He nods, “Locked away?”

She frowns, “You’re being smart! Away away! Like where a non-mage like me can’t get to, where no mortal can get to!”

He shrugs, “That’s because Fen’Harel didn’t lock me away. Deceit did.”

No fucking way, “As in Dirthamen’s raven Deceit?”

“Uh, sometimes he’s a raven, but he’s really better described as an aspect of my father?”

She looks down at her leg then at the pool and around her, “I’ve lost it. The varterrel must have thrown me into a pool of madness because none of this makes any sense.” She scrubs a hand down her face. This can’t be real. It just can’t. A naked God can’t be talking to her, calling her vhenan, and apparently be responsible for saving her life multiple times. Because if it is…well, shit Varas was right and that never happens.

“Miriel,” he says her name like a prayer, like it’s the most beautiful word out of all the words that have ever existed or ever will exist, and it is not helping at all!

Her eyes flit over to his face, his beautiful smiling face that could in some world belong to a God, she guesses.

“You’re not mad, this is real. I am real,” he says softly, gently taking her hand in his to guide to his chest. She inhales sharply at the feel of his warm, soft skin. He feels just like a person, not particularly Godly but definitely there. She takes a deep breath and nods.

“I need time.”

His smile widens, “Of course.”

“And I need to get back to my friends.” They’ve been alone with the varterrel and the humans, Creators know how they’re doing. The varterrel seems unlikely to attack them, judging by its reaction to them earlier, but the humans could easily attack, blaming them for the varterrel or any number of things that aren’t actually their fault.

He considers her for a moment, expression soft, “Very well.” He rises and strides to a bureau, quickly pulling out a shiny black robe. He is…very tall, how is he so tall? She’s not sure she’s even seen humans this tall. He is significantly bigger than the elves of her clan, and of others too. Maybe he is a God and they’re just…exceptionally large elves. His back is so broad, framed by broad shoulders and no, she is not thinking this right now. It’s not the time or place to be ogling a man…god she just met. Who apparently knows her and calls her vhenan.

Creators, her head hurts.

He clothes himself quickly before walking back to her. She makes to get up herself when he clucks his tongue at her.

“While I healed as much as I can, you are still recuperating.”

“I need to get back, a little bit of pain is not going to stop me,” she argues, shifting so that she is on all fours, or rather on three since she can’t weight on her injured leg quite yet.

“I can carry you, it would be faster, and safer.” He bends down to her and after a fruitless attempt to get up, Miriel falls to the side, huffing in frustration.

“Fine,” she says. He guides her gently into his arms, lifting her up bridal-style. Reflexively, Miriel wraps her arms around his neck, securing herself. He hums in what she thinks is approval judging by the adoration that has graced his features again.

“I still can’t believe it….” he whispers, turning wistful.

“What?” She replies, but he’s already stepping through the mirror and into the water. Miriel reflexively tucks against him only to find the water manipulated around him. He grins at her before propelling them up through the water, breaking through into the cavern.

The varterrel is positioned in front of the water, guarding it against the still battling humans. The humans are hunkered back however, and after a moment, Miriel sees why - they’re shouting at Lynnan and Varas.

“Should have known you blasted wild elves were behind this!” One of them shouts. Darevas and Miriel reach the stone floor, his grip tightens on her and he murmurs something that brings up magic all around them. A barrier.

“We have done nothing!” Lynnan shouts and Miriel leans in his arms to get closer to her friends.

“Please, they’re going to hurt them if I don’t do something.”

But he shakes his head, “I’ll get them, don’t worry.” He sets her down beneath the varterrel, tells it to guard her while he strides towards the humans.

“Leave this place, now. I will not tell you again,” he calls, his voice ringing out true and powerful, echoing in the small space. Maybe he is a God, she thinks as she watches him, commanding all around him.

The humans stand up to turn their ire towards him. A sudden bout of worry fills her as the humans stare him down, armed to the teeth while all he has are his soft robes. He can’t pretty them to death, and his magic is soft.

Damn it all, she rises to her feet. Her leg is weak but she has several knives hidden on her and she is not about to let the answers she’s so desperately sought be slain before her because of some idiotic humans.

“Who the fuck are you? You with these savages?” One of the humans accuses.

“These ruins belong our people!” Lynnan shouts, rising defiantly from her position. Dammit, Lynnan, no.

She winces, but rises. Miriel limps after Darevas. The varterrel makes a low whine of protest but she shushes him as she moves forward, needing to do something. She can’t sit by and watch as humans threaten her people and potentially one of her Gods.

“Your people stored a monster down here! It’s been terrorizing the town!”

“Enough! You have been told to leave, I will not have you threaten these people any more,” Darevas says and the magic in the cavern snaps like a rattle on a snake’s tail. A dark-haired, grizzled looking human steps forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and hate.

“And who the fuck are you?” He demands.

“Stop,” Miriel huffs, limping to Darevas, “we can stop the varterrel, it won’t bother you anymore. The Dalish had nothing to do with this, but we can solve it. There doesn’t need to be any more bloodshed.” She rationalizes. Darevas maneuvers himself quickly so that he is mostly in front of her, blocking her from the humans. She grabs hold of a sleeve to balance herself, pain beginning to manifest more in her hip than in her leg.

Another human steps forward, tall with a weathered face that does not breed trust in her, “You elves have been coming to our lands for years. You steal our game and our food, and now you’ve unleashed a monster on the town.”

Lynnan steps forward, “I am First to the clan. We hunt well away from your town and we have not stolen food. We were unaware of the varterrel until this very night, you have our word. No one needs to die tonight.” Miriel can see Lynnan eyeing Darevas with hesitance and suspicion.

Another human steps forward, arms crossed and a dagger missing from his belt, “No reason to trust you heathens. All you’ve done is steal and lie, don’t even follow the Maker.” Darevas tenses, his eyes staring at the damning empty holster at the man’s belt.

“You threw the knife at Miriel?” He asks, voice low and menacing.

The man’s eyes narrow, “I threw it at the beast.”

“She would have died if I hadn’t healed her,” he says and he begins to cast. His fingers twitch and the man falls to his knees, suddenly gasping for breath, blood beginning to flow from his nose and ears.

“What are you doing to him!?”

“It’s a demon!”

“It’s an abomination!”

“Apostate!”

The humans shout and Miriel yanks Darevas’s sleeve. He turns to her, confused.

“What are you doing?! We just said that no one had to die tonight!”

“He could have killed you, he should die,” his voice shakes with barely restrained rage.

“Thankfully he didn’t,” she hisses, “let him go, them go.” She pleads. He scowls, eyes narrowed, but he lowers his hand, letting the geas dissipate. The man falls to the ground, gasping for breath and shaking while his buddies grab him and pull him back.

“I suggest you leave, now,” he growls. The humans do as he says, scurrying back through the caverns and away from them.

Miriel lets out a breath of relief. He listened, he actually listened to her. She leans against him, her leg aching from the movement. Darevas looks down at her and brings a hand up to caress her cheek.

“You’re hurting.”

“I’m fine,” she protests. To prove it, she moves away from him and towards Lynnan, who thankfully sees her cue and gives her the staff to lean on. Varas creeps out from his spot, a bloody bandage hastily now wrapped around his arm.

“What happened?” She demands, leaning forward.

“Those humans have terrible aim, I think that guy has a lazy eye or something,” Varas says, grinning. Idiot, it’s not funny.

“Where did you go? What happened? And most importantly who is he?”  Varas whispers quickly.

“Uhh…”

“Varas!” Darevas greets loudly, following Miriel over.

Varas gasps, “He knows me?”

“Lynnan, Varas, this is Darevas…as in the Darevas.”

Her friends blink at her. Lynnan gets with it first and drops to her knees almost immediately.

“My lord! We are humbled by your presence, and grateful for your assistance.”

“Shit, this means I was right,” Varas whispers before following Lynnan’s lead, “and uh yes! My lord, thank you, my lord.” He lowers himself to his knees to prostrate himself. Darevas tilts his head and Miriel feels he is distinctly pleased at this. For some reason that…rubs her the wrong way.

She clears her throat, “We need to get back to camp. I have a feeling we have not seen the last of the humans.”

Lynnan sighs and nods, remaining in her position, “We will need to leave with all haste.”

“I do not understand, why must you leave? This is your home just as the humans,” Darevas says and an uncomfortable hush falls over them all. Right, he…doesn’t understand everything that has happened since the fall of Elvhenan.

Miriel’s face falls and her voice is solemn, “There is much we need to tell you.”


End file.
